


Bed

by misterbananakun



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 19:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20278402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misterbananakun/pseuds/misterbananakun
Summary: Beds remind Kyungsoo of him.





	Bed

_They were both breathing hard, cheeks flushed like the leaves of autumn, chests heaving up and down as they lay sprawled over Kyungsoo’s bed. The two boys caught each other’s eyes—one pair crescent-shaped and twinkling, the other wide and sparkling; but both completely content—and they grinned. _

Grimacing, Kyungsoo reluctantly pulled himself away from the distracting thoughts concerning someone he knew so long ago. Jongin was as gone as snow in summer, and Kyungsoo wasn’t one who would specifically buy a snow-machine just to temporarily change the weather. Kyungsoo had always been someone who merely accepted. Accepting was easy. It was easy to accept Jongin who had the talent and all the looks, Jongin who got an offer to join the most elite school of dancing in all of South Korea.

Jongin left; Kyungsoo stayed. It wasn’t a big deal.

The sad thing was that something as simple as being in a low-end furniture store could somehow make him relate beds to Jongin, to _Jongin-being-in-his-bed_ memories. It’s ridiculous.

“Oh,” Sungjae, Kyungsoo’s friend (more like a leech Kyungsoo couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried) and former junior in high school who’s also currently sharing an apartment with Kyungsoo, bounced periodically on one of the beds surrounding them. “This one’s kind of springy. What do you think?”

Kyungsoo promptly ignored the ‘do not sit’ sign (as Sungjae did) and planted his bum thoughtfully onto the soft material. It was, admittedly, rather springy. But Kyungsoo just shrugged complacently because his mind’s still painfully occupied by an insignificant someone. Really, Kyungsoo shouldn’t really bother at all. Jongin was an asshole. Would always be an asshole.

“You’re acting like the saddest person in the world again,” Sungjae complained, clicking his tongue and pulling Kyungsoo up by the arms. “Are you still upset? I promised you I’d find a replacement.”

Kyungsoo sighed again. Did he also mention that Sungjae’s moving out to live with his boyfriend? Which meant the rent was going to be fully handled by Kyungsoo alone, hence making Sungjae solemnly vow he’ll find someone who was willing to live with Kyungsoo, could afford half the rent, and wasn’t too much a slob (the last one Kyungsoo’s willing to make an exception because Sungjae didn’t exactly fulfill that one either). It was also the reason why they’re in a furniture store looking for a bed, because apparently, Sungjae’s boyfriend has only a single bed in _his _apartment.

“It’s not about that,” Kyungsoo said, with a tone of finality that informed Sungjae that he should stop asking. So Sungjae slung an arm over Kyungsoo’s shoulder, gave it a somewhat encouraging squeeze and dragged his hyung around to bounce (illegally) on the other beds.

All the while, Kyungsoo ignored his mind’s whispering of ‘Jongin, Jongin, Jongin’.

* * *

Sungjae finally chose a bed, (it wasn’t that hard, they just went for the cheapest one with free delivery charges) and they proceeded to pay for it at the counter. There wasn’t a line; in fact, there wasn’t _anyone _except for them, and two male cashiers chatting among themselves (which explained why nobody berated them for not obeying the ‘do not sit’ sign on most of the beds).

Sungjae bailed out at the last minute, saying he needed to check out some bed sheets), so that left Kyungsoo, standing awkwardly at the counter and trying to catch one of the cashiers’ attention who were facing backwards. One of them looked suspiciously familiar from behind, but Kyungsoo shook himself mentally and criticized himself for being so delusional.

“Um. Excuse me?”

Both of the cashiers turned around, and Kyungsoo almost fell flat on his face unconscious. Kyungsoo could never forget that face. He wasn’t being delusional after all.

“Kyungsoo?”

* * *

Kyungsoo knew his eyes were doing their thing again. He didn’t care. It was Jongin. Oh god, it _was _Jongin. The Jongin who haunted the most part of his daydreams, the Jongin who he used to hang out with, the Jongin who told him they’d never part. The Jongin who was an asshole, who wanted to chase his dream more than he wanted Kyungsoo.

The Jongin who _left._

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo breathed, over the counter.

“Hi,” Jongin said sheepishly, over the counter and straight to Kyungsoo’s poor heart. “It’s been…some time.”

It’s been some time? _It’s been some time? _Was that what you usually say to someone after _five_ fucking years?

“Why,” Kyungsoo began, and his brain shouted _no, no, that’s the stupidest question you could ever ask ever, _but his brain-to-mouth-filter malfunctioned and he blurted out, “Why are you here?”

Those eyes. Still staring like he couldn’t believe it. Kyungsoo didn’t doubt his was the same way.

“I er—work here?” Jongin rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden turn of events. “It’s just a part-time thing?”

Kyungsoo just thinks it’s stupid. It’s stupid how he’s still so much the same, so much of the Jongin Kyungsoo used to know.

It’s stupid that his statements _still _turned into questions for no reason, and his lips turned lop-sided when he grinned. It’s stupid that after five years (five years and three months exactly, not that anyone’s counting, definitely not Kyungsoo) since Jongin left, and after all the crying and all of Kyungsoo’s efforts of trying to forget him, that Kyungsoo didn’t just jump over the counter and kissed Jongin senseless.

Because out of all the things on Kyungsoo’s What to Do to Jongin If He Comes Back List, kissing him was the first. The second was punch him, and the third, kill him.

It’s stupid that everything’s so stupid. Like how Jongin’s not even doing anything. Or that _he _didn’t leap over the counter himself. Or the fact that there’s even a counter between them, separating them like a warning so they didn’t do anything brash.

“What are you doing here, hyung?”

Hyung. As if they didn't completely lose touch of each other, as if they're not complete strangers. As if Jongin didn't throw Kyungsoo to the fucking sidelines for a bigger dream, a better future. Kyungsoo, in his indignant state, found himself frowning from trying to remember to answer the question.

“I. Bed. I need a bed.” He pointed stiffly to the bed behind Jongin. “That one.”

Jongin looked over the shoulder. “Oh. The cheapest one?”

* * *

When the bed was all paid for and promised to be sent directly to Sungjae’s boyfriend’s apartment by that week itself, Sungjae promptly dragged Kyungsoo out of there. He was talking about having no money for bed sheets, and that Peniel should really take more responsibility, you know, as a good boyfriend.

“You’re using _his _money to buy the bed,” Kyungsoo reminded his soon-to-be-former roommate, fist clenching onto a piece of paper. Jongin had slipped it to him just before Sungjae came about. Kyungsoo didn’t know why he did that. It was both awkward and infuriating; writing your number on a piece of paper to give it to somebody was something you do in chick-flicks or something_, _not in a low-end furniture store, and definitely not to someone who you used to know, someone who you fucking _left._

The gesture also painfully reminded Kyungsoo that Jongin changed his phone number without even telling Kyungsoo.

“Yeah, but _I’m _buying it, right?” Sungjae argued, completely complacent with his reason and looking inappropriately affronted. “So it’s _my _money.”

Kyungsoo just nodded as if he understood any of Sungjae’s blabber. He was too shaken up—by the encounter with Jongin and the fact that he gave Kyungsoo his number, like he was so easy—to tell Sungjae he’s not making any sense at all.

* * *

Three days later, Kyungsoo still wasn't convinced to dial Jongin’s number. WHy whould he? He wasn't at fault here, why was Jongin expecting him to crawl back into his arms like nothing ever happened? And truthfully, it was scary; to suddenly be acquainted again with someone you were so close with. Not that Kyungsoo was thinking of doing that at all. So Kyungsoo thumbtacked the piece of paper with scraggly numbers on it onto his wooden board, next to the What to Do to Jongin If He Comes Back List. Now that Jongin really is back, the list looks stupid. The first thing he should have done is take the wood stapler on the shop counter and aimed it at Jongin's stupid head. And_ then_, kill him. or something. 

Three days later also, Sungjae told Kyungsoo the guy who’s going to replace him as a roommate was going to come at three. So Kyungsoo waited for a good five minutes before huffing in annoyance. This new roommate was going to suck at keeping promises.

The buzzer sounded at exactly 3.05pm, and Kyungsoo opened the door to a face full of Kim Jongin. Life can be so ironic sometimes. It can also be so full of bull crap.

“What...you live here?” Jongin gasped out, and he sounded out of breath, but that’s probably because the elevator’s broken again and he had to trek up four flights of stairs. Kyungsoo felt like he was being played, but who was he kidding, he let _Jongin _play him like a worn-out violin for the best part of his teenage life.

And _damn it, _Jongin’s statements were _still _becoming questions for no reason.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo gulped; body rigid. He couldn’t do this. His voice came out like a squeaky cat toy. “Are you my new roommate?”

Jongin nodded, and all Kyungsoo could do to stop from fainting right then and there, was to lounge forward and punch Jongin square on the nose. The guy tumbled, clutching at his face with a silent groan. 

"Fuck, I deserved that," He sputters out. There's blood--_blood!_ Kyungsoo's mind supplied with both horror and justified delight--running down and over his lips. Jongin looks up at Kyungsoo, eyes squinting with pain as he held his nose and tilted his head to stop the bleeding. "Look, hyung I--"

And Kyungsoo listened to Jongin saying he was sorry, for leaving, for changing his phone number without telling Kyungsoo, for acting like an asshole, because he was busy, and after he graduated the company he went to was too strict, and the only thing that motivated him to do better was the thought of Kyungsoo—and didn’t he say he’ll come back?—and he quit that stupid company, damn it to hell and back, and he’s going to stay here now, here with Kyungsoo, if he would have him. And it doesn't matter what he decided to do in the future because he was still young, there are so many opportunities, endless possibilities. 

But most of all he was sorry, he’s sorry, he’s _sorry, _but Kyungsoo was impatient, so he kissed all off Jongin’s apologies away--not caring they were at the front door, that he could taste blood-- hoping Jongin knew he had been waiting.

That he had always been waiting.

* * *

“This one’s bouncy,” Jongin exclaimed, not bothered to lower his voice. Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and pursed his lips judgingly at the pink bed with fluffy frills around the edges. It wouldn’t look so good in their new house; even Kyungsoo knew it wouldn’t match the blue curtains. The house was barely a week old, but with Jongin getting a new job as a dance instructor and Kyungsoo getting promoted to being one of the managers of the very same company, it was getting filled up with furniture pretty fast. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was nice and proper, and most importantly, it felt like home. They had been managing sleep with a futon spread on the floor for the past week, both of them cuddled in front of the heater every night. Kyungsoo's not going to lie, he's going to miss that.

“It doesn’t _need _to be bouncy,” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, but ended up giggling when Jongin pulled him onto his lap, the ‘do not sit’ sign clattering onto the floor.

“Yeah, it does. Because then we could—“

“Shut _up,_” Kyungsoo slapped Jongin on the shoulder, twisting to glare at the other male in an insulted way, albeit knowing his cheeks must be flushing red. “Don’t talk about—these _things _so openly.”

“I was thinking along the lines of pillow fights,” Jongin laughed, eyes becoming crescents. “But what _you’re _thinking should be fine too.”

The scarlet on Kyungsoo deepened when Jongin pressed a kiss to his neck. He then stalked off angrily, ignoring Jongin’s laughing protests. By the end of the day, they were banned from the shop forever for ‘disrupting general peace’. Kyungsoo didn’t care, and neither did Jongin.

They could get the bed somewhere else anyway.

As long as they had each other.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> ewwwwwww  
thanks for reading  
i'm transferring my works from aff and editing some, so don't worry it's not plagiarism  
(comments motivate me so *winkwonk)


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